


Sunday Mornings and Bed Hair

by TTFBarnett



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Complete, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 13:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TTFBarnett/pseuds/TTFBarnett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little something I came up with while watching episode 1 season 1. Just a typical Sunday morning at the Taylor-Kinney residence and the musings of a very much in love Justin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Mornings and Bed Hair

The birds chirping outside in the trees were the first thing I heard every morning, waking me from my mostly peaceful slumber. As usual Brian and I had curled together during the night so that we were facing each other and holding each other in our arms, our feet and legs tangled together in an intimate embrace.

I sighed softly as I shifted in bed, burying my face against Brian’s side, trying to hide from the sun streaming in through the thin curtains covering the huge window opposite our bed.

The room was slightly chilly with fresh winter air, seeing as the heating hadn’t kicked in yet. It was a normal morning at the Taylor-Kinney residence of Britin manor in West Virginia.

Brian mumbled in his sleep and unconsciously pulled me tighter against his side. As every morning I stayed in his arms slightly longer than I should before getting up and making a fresh batch of coffee knowing that he would be impossible to be around before his morning dose of caffeine. Groaning quietly I rolled out of the warmth of the blankets wincing when my bare feet touched the cold wooden floor of our grand bedroom.

I walked over to the chair sitting in front of our fireplace and grabbed my robe, slipping it on, hiding my naked state, as I walked out of the bedroom, down the hall and stairs and entered the kitchen. I went about the routine of grinding the coffee beans, which we only use on Sunday’s, and prepared the sugar for Brian’s cup while pouring the milk into mine.

Waiting for the coffee to finish brewing I grabbed the post off of the counter (our house maid always had it out for me every morning) and started sorting through it, sorting the junk, mine and Brian’s into three separate piles. Once done I grabbed the coffee pot and poured two generous helpings into the mugs, stirred them and carefully walked upstairs making sure not to spill. Brian would kill me if I spilled any on the expensive rugs, which I had no idea what they were made of.

Padding softly I nudged the heavy wooden door open with my bare foot and entered the room. Smiling softly at the sight of Brian buried in the thick blankets I sat the coffee on the bedside table and leaned over him. Placing my lips on his I kissed him until I gained a reaction.

He moaned softly rubbing his lips against mine sleepily, a smile working its way onto his face.

I grinned and pulled back ignoring his protests.

“Morning sleeping beauty!” I sang wafting the fresh coffee under his nose. He was instantly sitting up in bed and had a vice like hold on his mug, inhaling the fresh smell.

I climbed back over him to my side of the bed and tucked myself back under the covers.

It was mornings like this that I cherished most. Just the simple act of making his coffee, sorting the mail and waking him made my morning. It was the one time that we could be completely ourselves without having to worry about people storming in unannounced and children moaning for breakfast.

None of that was my favourite though. My favourite thing about every morning is watching Brian sit there, coffee in hand, maybe sometimes the newspaper, with his hair un-styled, unwashed and wild. There was nothing sexier to me than Brian with bed hair and not caring because he was with me. 

And with me he can be himself.


End file.
